


Epistolary Romance

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bedroom shenanigans ensue, Hannibal sends one back, M/M, Will sends Hannibal a note, crack and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 16:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Will leaves a note in his room, knowing Hannibal will find it. Hannibal decides to return the favor. Fluff and nonsense.





	Epistolary Romance

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt I can no longer find, but what the hell? I finished it anyway. The prompt was "Hannibal and Will write each other notes".

         Hannibal paused by Will’s bedroom door. A heap of clothes were lumped into the middle of Will’s mattress. Hannibal squinted, there was the shirt he had just laundered – and the pair of slacks. He pressed his lips together, Will must have grabbed the clothes from the dryer and chucked them onto the bed on his way out the door.

         Hannibal stood in Will’s doorway, fingers lightly tapping the jamb. He probably shouldn’t enter Will’s room, it would be a bit of a violation. He turned to leave, but thought about Will, his beautiful rumpled boy who always look like he pulled his wardrobe from beneath a tire.

         With a firm shake of his head, Hannibal strode with purpose up to the pile. Will may not take care in his appearance, but that didn’t mean Hannibal couldn’t. He smoothed out each item of clothing, shaking out the wrinkles before meticulously folding each garment.

         When three neat stacks of clothes were arranged on Will’s dresser, Hannibal surveyed the rest of Will’s room. The bed was unmade. The area rug was turned up at the corner. The lamp shade twisted at an odd angle on Will’s nightstand and somehow every picture frame in the room was askew.

          _Honestly, how on earth could one person cause so much disorder in one day?_

         Hannibal thought back to their weeks on the run. Will had been so conscientious, carefully cleaning wounds and checking stitches. Even back in Wolf Trapp, Will had kept his home in ordered chaos. Everything had its place, and was covered in dog hair. This sort of behavior seemed odd.

         Grimacing, Hannibal set about restoring order to Will’s room.

         On his way out, Hannibal straightened one final picture, an awful oil painting of a German pointer Will had fallen in love with at the flea market. There was resistance when he tried to move the frame. Carefully, Hannibal felt behind the frame, finding tape. He pulled coming away with a scrap of paper stuck to his fingers. He squinted at Will’s chicken scratch handwriting.

>           _Persnickety fussbudget_

Hannibal’s mouth twisted into a grin.

                                        

* * *

         Will tromped into his room, with dripping curls plastered to his head. He’d run hard, trying to get the pent-up energy out of his body. Energy that had been encouraging him to do something stupid, like stick his tongue down Hannibal Lecter’s throat.

         He shook his head, stripping off his shirt. He went to throw it next to the clean clothes on his bed when he realized his bed was made. Will turned, taking in the pristine order that had settled over his room. His clothes were neatly stacked on his dresser. He could bounce a quarter off the tightly made bed in front of him. Each picture frame was straight, including the dog painting.

         Will smiled, maybe he wouldn’t have to go on many more runs.

         When he emerged from the shower, Will walked over to the stack of clothes, selecting a shirt that Hannibal claimed enhanced his eyes. As he unfurled the cloth, a piece of paper fell from the folds to the floor.

         Will picked it up, smiling when he recognized Hannibal’s elegant script.

>           _Untidy miscreant_

Will grinned, throwing on the shirt and creeping toward Hannibal’s room.

* * *

         Hannibal changed into his pajamas with a slight frown. Will was wearing the shirt that contained the note, but had said nothing about their game. Perhaps he had misread the situation? The note could have been some sort of rebuke instead of a tease.

         Will’s scent didn’t help Hannibal’s mood. It seemed stronger than usual, filling Hannibal’s lungs with each intake of breath. Hannibal reached under his pillow to untuck his sheets, but came back with a handful of light blue cotton. He cocked his head as he examined what were clearly a pair of Will’s boxers, a note pinned to the fly:

>           _Not untidy, but occasionally a bit dirty_

         Hannibal dropped the boxers and ran for Will’s bedroom. He skidded to a stop just before the door, taking time to smooth his hair and catch his breath. It wouldn’t do for Will to think he ran down the hall like an overeager puppy.

         He opened the door quietly, trying to strike a semi-seductive pose in the doorway.

         The bedroom was empty, bed sheets still tucked tightly beneath the mattress. Hannibal noticed a scrap of paper sitting on Will’s pillow and approached.

>           _Persnickety and predictable, Hannibal._

         Hannibal felt his shoulders tense. He hated being mocked. He could imagine Will now, hidden in some shadowed alcove downstairs laughing to himself as he watched Hannibal run across the second floor. He stewed on the cruelty of it as he marched back to his bedroom, seethed at the indignity of having such base emotions. He had lasted for three years under the cold thumb of Alana Bloom without once cracking, but Will had utterly disarmed him with a torn bit of paper.

         “You look upset, forget your pen?”

         Hannibal’s head snapped up. Will was lounging in Hannibal’s bed, the covers riding low enough on the empath’s hips to hint at the nudity beneath them. Hannibal watched as Will wiggled a little lower onto the mattress, his body writhing in a delicate arch as the covers inched down further. Will raised an eyebrow.

         “You coming over here, or are you going to write me another note?”

         Hannibal raced for the bed, all semblance of grace removed from him as he rushed toward Will. Pulling his pajama top over his head, Hannibal let it drop to the floor in a heap.

         Will laughed, pointing at the shirt. “Untidy, Dr. Lecter!”

         Hannibal grinned, letting his fingers brush along the divot of Will’s hip as they curled around the sheet. He ripped back the covers and straddled Will, leaning forward to run his nose along the heaving chest below him. Making his way to Will’s ear, Hannibal took the lobe in his teeth before biting firmly.

         “Never untidy, Will,” Hannibal whispered. “But occasionally very dirty.”


End file.
